


To Breathe in Your Bones

by JessicaPendragon



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Character Death, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-29 01:06:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5110820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessicaPendragon/pseuds/JessicaPendragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She’s learned not to cry at death anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Breathe in Your Bones

Smoke curls into the speckled sky and she wishes to be as far away as those blurry stars. 

There’s still splinters buried into the flesh of her fingers and palms from building the pyre, but the pain is dulled by the burning in her heart. It’s a heavy thing, and as the wood cracks and pops, each memory of him bursts inside with sparks of joy and sorrow.

She’s learned not to cry at death anymore. It is an old acquaintance, a friend of the family. It’s chipped away pieces of her that she’s filled with vengeance, love, purpose. Though as the ashes of his bones drift in the wind and sting against her eyes, she cannot keep her emotions at bay.

She knows each moment beyond that fateful day when they both should have perished was a gift, but it does not dull the loss. It feels like there are so few pieces left of her to peel away before there will be nothing left.

Moira tightens her hold on the leather in her hands, the fabric creaking and groaning against her trembling grip. She looks into the fire, unblinking, and sniffs back tears. He has been a piece of her for so long she forgets what life was like before.

An arm wraps around her waist and pulls her against a soft yet solid form. Alistair presses his nose against her cheek, breathing strength into her weary skin.

“I’m here,” he whispers with a gentle kiss. 

“It’s foolish, but I thought he’d live forever. I don’t know how I’m going to wake up every morning without him,” she says, shutting her eyes against the sudden flood of feelings. 

They slip into silence and watch the flames dance like reverent mourners over the thickly wrapped body atop the wood. Moira can barely see through the fire and is glad for it.

“Should we uh, say anything? I mean if you want to,” Alistair says. 

“I…I don’t think I can-” His other arm reaches around her stomach and pulls her into his chest. She hides away from it all, head pushed beneath his chin. “But if you could…”

“Me? Yes, me, of course.” Alistair clears his throat and she feels it tremble down her spine. “Well, the first night after Ostagar, Fryx stole my trousers and buried them in the mud. In that moment, I knew we would have a special bond.”

Despite herself, Moira lets out a trail of quiet laughter at the memory.

“I never really knew how much he understood about everything, but he was always there to cheer you up or have your back in a fight. He didn’t have a lot to say, but he was easier to talk to than Morrigan-”

“ _Alistair.”_

 _“_ Right, sorry.” His arms tighten around her, bringing her closer. Lips leave soft kisses down the side of her face before they settle close to her ear. The measure of his voice shifts to something soothing. “He was a great companion and a noble beast. If anyone doubts why we honor them, I’ll have to remind them of the brave mabari that fought side by side with Hero of Ferelden until the very end. I…I’ll miss him.”

Moira lifts her face up and gazes into his flame flecked eyes. His smile is sweet, loving, and not for the first time does she wonder where she would be without him. A message pulls like an anchor in her pocket, a parcel of hope against the sickness in their blood. If she had any doubts about following this new trail of breadcrumbs they are gone now. She will not lose him too, not before they’ve rung out every last ounce of a full life together. And maybe beyond that.

She leaves a lingering kiss on his mouth before pulling away. “Thank you.”

Moira moves closer to the fire until the heat is almost to much to bear. She stares at the collar in her hand and runs fingertips over the name burned into the soft leather. Thousands of memories are embedded into the fabric, a thousand moments she will treasure forever.

“Thank you for choosing me. I know we had longer than most, but still, I wish we had more time. I…Goodbye, pup.” She throws the collar onto the pyre and the flames devour it with rapt dedication. Embers shoot up into the night sky and she follows them as they become short lived stars all their own. 

Alistair slips his hand into hers, squeezing tight with reassurance. She leans onto him and rests her head against his shoulder. Together they watch the fire burn well into the night, settling in among the memories of fallen friends and the comfort of one another. 

When dawn comes, Moira smears ashes across her forehead and walks towards the west, alone. Somewhere ahead wolves howl to one another, a soulful tribute for the dog lord without a pack. She smiles, wistful and quiet, as the sun warms her back and follows their voices into the morning fog.


End file.
